Why
by Drayconette
Summary: Alex Rider had his character and talents that made him a perfect spy long before his uncle's fateful death. A series of flashbacks to explain why. Not fully AU, but unique version of events including Ian, Jack, Tom, school, SAS, and more.
1. Complex

_**Why**_

DESCRIPTION**: **Alex Rider had his character and talents that made him a perfect spy long before his uncle's fateful death. A series of flashbacks to explain why.

Disclaimer: I'm not _that_ delusional.

_A.N: This prologue is really short- but **the other chapters will be longer**! Don't give up on it.

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Prologue

**Complex**

Alex Rider, secret agent. Teenage spy. MI6 operative. Savior of millions- multiple times.

Quite impressive titles. But there is more to Alex. There are reasons that he's as good as he is. He is more than just an impressive, talented youth.

Alex Rider is a boy. An orphan. Bullied, ignored, and scorned by his peers. A simple, hard-working schoolboy. A youth with a lot of character and quirks.

But neither extreme can be who he really is. Not after growing up with murdered parents, an undercover MI6 spy and just-out-of-high-school American, and his own private, determined nature. Even before all the madness at 14, his life was never normal. Not really. His abilities and fortitude were built throughout his life; a life that isn't quite as fantasy-esque as it originally sounds. Perhaps more abysmal, sad, and lonely than anything else.

Alex is complex. He's hard to explain. But some things, broken down, are obvious.

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	2. Capable

Disclaimer: Don't think so.

**CAPABLE**

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_Alex Rider is capable. And responsible. He doesn't rely on others- he takes care of things himself._

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Ian nearly growled and threw the draft at the overflowing trash can. He stood up and began pacing again.

He'd been in his study for hours, trying to complete paperwork and other important projects that had to be done by morning. There were too much, and the monotonous work, after the past week's … events, had him at the end of his rope.

A timid, but constant, knocking at the door brought him out of his straying thoughts.

"Ian?"

"What?" He threw the door open and snapped before he could catch himself. His three year old nephew, looked down at his feet, hesitant to answer

"I… Is only, I know is bedtime… but… but, I _really_ hungry." At this the boy looked up, his large brown eyes pleading. "Can't I have a bread, or biscuit? Then I go right asleep. I promise. Please?"

Ian glanced up at the clock in surprise, seeing that it was, indeed, 'bedtime.' He usually had Alex in bed by 8:00pm and it was already half past. The hours really had flown, in fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd left the study.

"Alex, you already had supper. Let's just get you a glass of milk and then bed. You-" He cut off, as Alex was shaking his head resolutely since he began speaking. "What? It's already past your bedtime…"

"No! I not. I not, yet."

"What? You haven't what, yet?" He frowned, confused and getting frustrated as his nephew continued to shake his head.

"I not had supper. You say not bother you in study, and you not come out."

"I… what are you talking about? Of course I-" But he cut himself off, because he knew that he had forgotten to make meals some times before, when he was wrapped up in something. He always promised himself he wouldn't do it again, but he couldn't really help it.

His nephew had started talking again. "I really, really hungry. I been good _all_ day, promise. Not bother you in study, like you say. But now is bedtime… and can't I _please_ have a bread first?"

And suddenly, with a sickening jolt, Ian remembered that, no, he hadn't come out to make supper. In fact, after waking up before dawn from that horrible nightmare of his partner's death just two days ago, he'd come in here to his study to immerse himself in work. He swallowed guiltily as he looked back up at the clock. He'd been in here all day, hadn't come out once. What had his poor nephew done all day? No wonder he was hungry! He hadn't eaten since their early dinner the day before. He crouched down next to the poor kid, feeling awful.

"It's alright, Alex. I'll get you something to eat. I… bug- I mean… er… I didn't mean to be in there all day. You did good following the rule and not bothering me in my study. But…" he sighed and stood back up. He wanted to tell Alex to interrupt him if he ever didn't come out during mealtimes, but he knew he could. He knew there would be times when he would be doing things, important, private things, that Alex couldn't know about. So, instead, he decided on, what he thought was the best option.

He led his nephew into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was nearly empty. There were some condiments, a few uncooked ingredients, but not much else. He looked through the kitchen and realized they were out of nearly everything. _Oh Alex_, Ian thought guiltily, _you couldn't even grab something to eat from a cupboard…_

"Alright then. Look here, Alex, I know I should have made you something. But we're going to fix this. You won't have to worry about meals from now on. Up you get." He lifted Alex onto the counter and pulled out a skillet and eggs. "I'm going to teach you to cook. I'll try to remember, but in case something like this happens again, you'll be able to scrounge something up, alright?"

And so it went. For the next few months, Ian had Alex cook. He would instruct, identify, supervise and help the kid out with heavy pots and such, but he had to ensure Alex remembered what to do. He taught him to work the microwave, blender, stove, and oven. The boy was still too young to read the recipes, so Ian had him memorize how to make spaghetti, sandwiches, hot cereal, eggs, tacos, boxed mixtures, cans of soup, and other 'easily' learnt meals.

He also started teaching Alex other things around the house. How to unblock a toilet, the right way to answer the phone and take a message, how to work the thermostat to cool or heat the house, when to check the mail, how to clean- from vacuuming to washing the windows, where the keys for the front and back doors were hid, and other household responsibilities.

At first he felt anxious at the thought of his little nephew doing any of this alone, but he pushed the feeling down. It was best to get a head start on these things. His nephew was responsible and smart, and it would be some time, years probably, before he would let the boy do them on his own.

Or so he thought.

One chilly Friday in late January, only a week after Alex's fourth birthday, Ian left the boy at the local nursery, arranging a ride home for him with a trusted parent, and left for an important meeting at the bank. Due to circumstances beyond his control, Ian never made it home. Not for another three days. He never even had the chance to call someone.

He limped into his apartment, frantically worried and frightened that he would find his nephew curled up somewhere, hungry, dirty, and abandoned. He was _not_ expecting to see the boy seated in the carefully cleaned kitchen, a nearly empty class of orange juice and half-eaten plate of slightly-soggy spaghetti and peas in front of him. The ragged, but healthy, boy looked up, his face splitting into a grin.

"Ian! You home! You want some s'getti?"

And Ian knew he had taught Alex well. And that, in very few years, the boy would never need to rely on him again. And he felt proud. And horribly sick with guilt.

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_AN: Review, if you will?_


	3. Quiet

Disclaimer: Nope.

_AN: So I'll say this now, this isn't exactly a happy story. Actually I might have to change it to angst or tragedy at some point, later. Let me know if you think I should. But anyways. Only warning you what to expect. Which isn't fluffy, happy, or very funny. Hence the T rating. There won't really be any swearing or very graphic violence/descriptions, but yeah. Hope you enjoy it anyways. I think it's pretty appropriate. _

**QUIET**

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_Alex Rider is quiet. He doesn't talk a lot and makes hardly a sound when he moves. _

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Alex giggled as he jumped up and down on the springy motel bed. It had been such a long day, Ian dragging the five year old all over Avignon, France on his latest recon mission, that he felt the kid deserved a bit of fun.

He was expecting a call in – he checked his watch- almost an hour. A rather important call from a contact whose loyalty was in question. Ian was to take the information the contact provided him with and make a judgment on the validity and reliability of the man. The result could mean the difference between an irrational, but harmless risk and an insane, powerful threat.

Ian was hoping Alex would have wound down and be asleep by that time. It would probably be a bad connection and it was essential that Ian keep his own cover and hear every word exactly, without any distractions.

As his nephew continued to bounce around, babbling loudly, Ian went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He was just turning off the water and toweling off when he heard the phone ring. Frantic, he rushed out still dripping, a towel around his waist. As he lunged for the phone he snapped at a still-hyper Alex to be quiet.

"Good evening to you." he gasped out.

"But usually never in Westminster." A gravely voice replied.

"Especially in the rain." He returned, relief flooding through him. This was the password exchange set up. Now the contact would start giving him tips, codes, coordinates, passwords, undercover agents, and other important, detailed information. He needed to make sure he heard all of it, every word exactly and match it to other information in order to determine its validity.

But Alex was still laughing and jumping around the room.

"Alex! Shh!" he called hoarsely, trying his best not to give away to the informant that he had a child with him. But the boy was now singing a song he had recently learned at school and trying to do a flip on the mattress, between jumps. "Alex! _Settle dow-_"

The contact began to list the information and Ian turned back to the phone, covering his other ear with a hand. He wrote down numbers and specific names or places, cataloguing and making connections, taking note of the man's tone and inflection for clues. For several minutes this went on, and the phone connection was getting worse and worse. Ian grew more and more frustrated as he began to almost miss whole words and numbers and the voice faded in and out.

And of course, Alex's young wailing of a Spanish rap song wasn't helping at all. Ian waved at the boy motioning for him to _Sit down!_ already. Alex only laughed and sang louder. Ian made hushing noises as he tried to catch the information still streaming at him. But Alex only grinned as he picked a new song. And Ian saw red as he strained his ears to pick up the last crackly words.

Finally the information ended, the contact gave the address and time of Ian's next assignment; to meet and transfer the information to another contact in Beijing in person. He slammed the phone down, furious, having no clue as to whether or not he could trust the man and knowing that he had probably misunderstood, or actually missed entirely, very important information that could save lives.

In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't really his nephew's fault. The connection had been poor, Ian wasn't prepared for the call to come early, and the little boy didn't know the importance of quiet when his uncle had just told him to have some fun.

But none of that registered. Ian was livid, worried and anxious over what a wrong choice or mistake in the codes could mean. And Alex was _still_ bouncing and singing. Storming over, he snatched Alex's arm and yanked him down off the bed.

Then he slapped Alex across the face.

"Alex! I asked you to be quiet! What's _wrong_ with you?" and he slapped the stunned boy again. "That was a very important phone call! When I tell you to do something, you do it! You listen! If I tell you to be quiet- settle down and _be quiet_!" he shook Alex hard as he said this, panting as the intense feelings coursed through him. "Do you understand me? Will you stop being so bloody loud?"

The confused, terrified boy nodded mutely. His face stung and his uncle's fierce hold was hurting his arms.

"Good." The man bit out, his head dropping forward for a moment. "Good." Then he pushed the stunned boy back towards the bed. "Now go to sleep, and don't make another noise- I'm warning you!"

Alex hurriedly clambered onto the bed and under the sheets; hunched and shaking slightly. Ian went back into the bathroom to get dressed. When he came out almost an hour later, finally cooled down, Alex was already asleep, curled into a ball at the corner of the mattress.

The next day Ian sent Alex on a flight back home while he left on another to Beijing, having decided that the informant was trustworthy. He couldn't afford any more mistakes or distractions in this mission. And he needed some time to get over what he had done to his own nephew. When he returned to England two days later, he apologized to Alex, who merely nodded in response, not making eye-contact.

It was the first and only time Ian ever hit his nephew in anger. But Alex was only five, and it affected him greatly. The only explanation he'd received for the incident was that he'd been too loud. So for weeks Alex rarely talked, and he moved so carefully as to not make any noise; he never wanted to anger his uncle to blows again. Over time it stopped being a constant effort and became a habit, became second nature for him. But for years he was instinctively afraid of retribution for making noise.

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_Review?_


	4. Tearless

Disclaimer: Doubt it

**TEARLESS**

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_Alex Rider never cries. Nor does he complain or indulge in self-pity._

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The last time Alex cried was during his first year of primary school, exactly one week before Christmas. He would never forget.

It was the last day of school before holiday and Mrs. Meezer, his elderly teacher had given up the last day of maths as futile, as all the students were too anxious to leave. She decided, instead, to get their 'creative juices' flowing, and asked them to describe any fun plans or traditions their families had planned for the next couple weeks. All of the different children spoke of simple or exciting things they planned to do or get as presents. When Alex Rider's turn came, he merely shrugged and said that he'd probably go out of the country for business with his uncle, as they often did during holidays. The gray-haired teacher smiled indulgently, and motioned for Susan Michaels to take her turn.

After school, Alex was waiting for the bus home. Derek Norsely, a rather nasty red-head in his class, shoved into the quiet boy to get his attention.

"So you're going to some boring work thing with some stuffy uncle for Christmas? That sounds lame. Where's your mum and dad?" Derek wasn't trying to be cruel, but for a brash child of six, he wasn't very perceptive or tactful. His mother worked long hours and his unemployed father spent most days passed out on the sofa. So he'd never been taught much manners or gentleness.

"It's not that bad… I like going places with uncle Ian." Alex answered without looking at him, instead still staring down the road for the bus. After a pause he finished quietly, "My parents are dead."

Miles Norsely, Derek's older brother, turned from where he'd been talking loudly with his friends. He had heard the conversation and decided to contribute. Always shoving for spotlight, he loved to tease and prank, and make his friends laugh. Along with this was jealousy and frustration caused from his own miserable home life. Whenever he could, he would mock other's 'perfect family' or lack of one. Here was such an opportunity, and he pounced on it.

"What's this? Little, baby got no parents? Ooh, poor thing." His friends chuckled at his silly voice, egging him on. "You gonna spend Christmas all alone? Or, no, wait- you have your cranky, old uncle to drag you around or leave you behind while he goes to meetings. That'd be the _best_ way to spend Christmas. I'm soooo jealous!"

It's impossible that Miles could have known, but he was hitting it exactly right. Alex had always been a little envious of other children, who would go home to Christmas trees, brightly wrapped presents, holiday sweets, and caroling. He'd always wondered, even at his young age, what it would be like to grow up with a proper family, and parents who would coddle and play with and hold him. He loved his uncle but… sometimes he sort of forgot that Alex was there.

Now Miles' friends started to join in on the teasing, thinking it great fun to try and roil the stoic orphan.

"Yeah! You gonna get any presents? You don't have any brothers or sisters or mum or dad, do you even have any friends?"

"Are you sure your mum and dad are dead? Sure they didn't just leave you? I bet they thought a boring kid like you would be happy with a boring old uncle!"

"Stop."

"Oi, I know! The only reason your uncle takes trips and all, and doesn't stay home, is because he can't stand being around you! He must want to leave like your parents did!"

"Go 'way."

"Or, maybe you're some bastard kid. I bet your old man is off in jail somewhere and your mum didn't want anything to do with you…"

"Yeah, you're just some big mistake that they shoved off onto some distant relative that could care less- he's probably not even your real uncle!"

"Stop it!"

"Ooh, he's getting all upset. That's the truth isn't it? Your parents never liked you, your uncle doesn't like, you've got no family, and you're gonna have an awful Christmas! Poor baa-aaby!"

"Leave me alone!" Alex moaned as his tormentors began poking him and patting his head in mock-sympathy. He just wanted them to be quiet and leave him alone. He knew what they said couldn't be true… of course not. His parents had loved him, but they had died is all… and uncle Ian loved him too, only he was… busy a lot. That's all- right? It… he… if they would only be quiet!

But they wouldn't be quiet. Not even when the bus came and they all loaded on. Not even as some of the group had to get off at their houses. Not even when they got to Alex's stop. Miles and Derek followed the now distraught child all the way up to his doorstep. The whole way Alex was tormented with horrible accusations and scenarios and insults.

He rushed into the house, slamming the door behind him. The jeers and laughter faded as the boys headed away down the sidewalk to their house a couple blocks away. For several minutes Alex just stood there, sobbing at the horrible thoughts the cruel teasing had stirred in him.

Then Ian came into the entryway from his study. Ian, who was still recovering from his last assignment, which he had basically failed, being one of the few to barely make it out alive. Ian, who had been told his last physical had placed him 'not yet fit' to go back into fieldwork. Ian, who had heard his nephew's cries and was momentary thrown into a panic that something horrible had happened. Ian, who truly wasn't having a good day.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?" he had never been very comfortable with obvious or extreme displays of emotion. Crying being one of them. "Are you hurt?"

"N-no… I'm f-fine. I-I…" he could hardly get anything out.

"Then what happened? Calm down. Tell me." He grasped the boy's shoulders and forced him to make eye contact and take deep breaths.

"I… some boys at school were… teasing me. They said… they said awful things!" He looked up, indignant now. "They were making fun of mother and father and-"

"What?" he couldn't believe it. After what he had envisioned, what had his quiet nephew near hysterical was simple schoolyard teasing? In his distressed state, he didn't think to realize that, for it to upset Alex so much, it couldn't have been mere schoolyard teasing; there must have been something said that had affected him badly. He wasn't usually harsh too Alex, he loved and raised the kid, but he never acted in the proper 'parental' way when stressed- he was a spy, used to subduing emotion and responding with action. Now, all he could see was some sniveling child, trying to get sympathy, and acting too immature and selfish.

"Alex- look at me! You shouldn't have let it get to you. Everyone teases, it's not a big deal-"

"But- what they said! It… they were saying-"

"It doesn't matter! And stop crying!" his scowl deepened and he shook the boy by his trembling shoulders. "Listen to me- there are a lot worse things than mean words. Just because a couple of boys tease you because you're not as tall or fast or smart as them, or you don't have as much money or presents, or even because your parents are dead- there are worse things out there! Have you any- you don't have any clue how worse it could be for you. There are horrible things that happen to people, and you're in here- bawling because some cowardly kid said you were different or something… I- You…"

He paused his rant as an idea came to him. MI6 had termed him 'on temporary leave' but that didn't mean he had to sit around in Chelsea and stew. _Well_, the spy determined, _I'll show Alex what's out there. He can't always be so naive. I'll make him understand who really has a reason to cry._

He released his nephew and stood up. Looking down at the boy, he told him to get up to his room and pack.

The next morning they left for America, where they visited the National Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. Ian made sure Alex understood all of the exhibits and the history of it all. On the way to their hotel for the night, Ian took them through both expensive, wealthy neighborhoods and the downtown slums, explaining the drastic differences and cruel selfishness.

Alex had a hard time getting to sleep that night.

The next few days were spent in the war-torn Democratic Republic of the Congo, touring through some of the lowest, most oppressed and deprived villages. The six year old cringed every time he saw another child's emaciated body.

In New Zealand, they visited a shelter for abused and abandoned women and children. On Christmas they were on the Pulau islands with a relief team, trying to help the natives bury dead, recover, and rebuild after a devastating typhoon. A whole day was dedicated in Nepal, discretely observing the appalling child labor and packed factory workers' conditions. Another was spent visiting different hospitals throughout the world: child cancer centers, war-torn tents, small, under-equipped shacks- patients who were being treated for anything from being mauled by a lion to Schistosomiasis.

At the end of their holiday, they flew back to Chelsea. During the flight, Ian had Alex watch a documentary/instructional video, meant for police training, about sex offenders and victims.

Alex hardly spoke a word the whole two weeks.

That night, when they finally got home, Ian sat Alex down in his study.

"Do you understand, Alex?" Ian kept eye contact, his gaze fierce. "Do you see how much worse it could be? I've shown you what's out there, how cruel and hurtful the world can be. Now, do you understand why I didn't want you to cry?"

Alex wasn't sure, exactly. After all he'd learned and experienced, he sure felt like crying a lot. But he nodded, trying to understand.

"When you get upset or teased about silly things, I hope you can remember this trip. Remember that, although your mother and father are gone, you could have been abandoned or abused. When you've missed a meal or scratched your knee, remember meeting Ntombi in Kenya, or that poor old man who had his leg amputated. If someone pushes you around at school, remember there are people out there who could really be hurting you. When things go wrong or you're tired of working hard, remember that you could have a palm tree through your house, or be forced to labor all day in a dirty, cramped factory. Remember. When you're sad, lonely, afraid, hurt, depressed- remember! And be thankful- because it could be worse. It could always be so much worse."

And Alex thought, maybe, he could understand. As much as he wanted to cry for all those people, they really needed people to be strong for them. That as much as knowing about these things hurt , he now realized they could definitely hurt more, if he was experiencing them.

The next day, when Miles, back at school after a depressing holiday at home, began following him around with cruel words, Alex remembered.

He would always remember- and would never cry.

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_AN: Si? Review, por favor._


	5. Patient

Disclaimer: no

_AN: TO ALL MY FABULOUS REVIEWERS- Indulge me a moment. I feel a need to defend my view of Ian. I'm not always so good at writing it clearly into the story. He's not really that bad of a guy. I'm NOT defending his horrible parenting skills, but (at least in this story) he really did his best. He never really chose or prepared to be a parent, but he took Alex in because he loved him. He was a spy, with instincts, reactions, and understanding of a guy who fought and lied and saw too much. And, even though he was a spy, he really didn't react so well under pressure/stress, at least, not in the way Alex needed. So he did his best _by _Alex, only perhaps not best _for _Alex, trying to show him the world and become 'tough' and experienced. __So yeah. My reasoning behind some of this. _

_Now, enjoy._

**PATIENT**

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_Alex Rider is patient. He can wait… indefinitely._

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He'd joined his uncle on another 'business trip,' this time in Arequipa, Peru. They'd been here nearly a month, which seemed really long to Alex. He was pretty good at Spanish now and was well familiar with the streets and locals. He knew all the bad parts of town, what kind of people to avoid eye contact with and never, ever talk to, how he wasn't allowed to talk about home, to not carry more than a few _reais_ at a time, and all the other important things his uncle had drilled into him.

On his seventh birthday his uncle had treated him to an amazing supper at an English restaurant more than a half hours' walk away. He'd gotten a big helping of Treacle Tart- his favorite- and a detailed, carved iguana toy. They were on their way back to their rented apartment when they had to go through some of the 'bad parts of town.' Uncle Ian had seemed really tense all evening and when they got to a treed, rather secluded, road he had hurriedly pulled Alex into the shadows of a tall tree.

"Climb up. High as you can go. And stay there, you hear me? _Don't_ come down- it's important! There are bad people around here. I'll be back to get you- but stay up there until I do!"

Then he had shoved Alex to the first branch, watched him climb to a satisfying height and disappeared down the lane.

Now, the birthday boy was still crouched in the shadows of the tree, about eight feet up. He didn't know how long he'd be hiding here, but his legs hurt, he kept shivering, and he was really sleepy.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't know what the big deal was, but Ian couldn't have meant for him to stay up here forever. And anyways, he would only be down for a minute, to stretch his legs and see if Ian was back yet. Yes, that made sense.

But only a moment after getting down from his hiding place, Alex heard someone coming. Several someones. He tried to race back to the tree, but his legs were still cramped from the long wait and he stumbled. As he was scrambling for a branch low enough for him to climb back up, he heard a yell behind him and suddenly he was grabbed and flung around.

"Look what I've got here!" The Spanish words were low and spoken roughly. "Found a rich little _gringo_! After that botched exchange tonight, it looks like we'll have our fun to make up for it!"

Alex found himself thrown onto the uneven ground, next to another cowering figure, surrounded by several clearly drunken, brash men. He rolled over and silently, his eyes wide, watched as they joked, argued, and laughed raucously. Their Spanish was badly slurred and broken, so the boy had a hard time understanding what they were talking about. Despite this, he knew it was nothing good.

One of the men, with matted, greasy hair and beard, lunged toward him. Alex flinched back, but the man wasn't reaching for him. He had instead grabbed at the bound figure beside Alex, a thin, but attractive young woman. Shrieking and writhing to get away, she was surrounded and prodded by the men. Their comments became graphic, crude and obscene, as they groped and played with her.

Alex was essentially ignored where he cowered on the ground, clutching his new toy iguana tightly. But he knew what was going on, could imagine what was going to happen. Ever since last Christmas…

He couldn't hardly stand the cries and the harsh way they were treating the woman. He called out silently for his uncle to come back. Ian would stop them, Ian would save him, Ian always knew what to do. But Ian didn't come, and after a few minutes, Alex broke and raced forward, yelling at them to stop. He head butted the bearded man in the stomach, trying to push them away.

"Ai! You little devil! Get off!" Alex tasted blood as he was shoved face first into the ground. The bearded man held him down as another tied him roughly. "You're a feisty one! I think we'll have loads of fun with you, when we get done with the slut. Mm… I do like them young."

Alex turned his head from the lustful grin. The man guffawed loudly, then Alex felt something being pressed into his bound hands.

"Here's your rich toy. Must have broken when you went mental on us. Hold on to it anyway… we may find some entertainment with it later." He laughed again, stroked Alex's bruised cheek with a grimy hand, then turned back to 'the real fun.'

Alex was again forgotten as the men converged on the woman. He shut his eyes tightly, and tried to turn his head away from the girl's awful pleas as the men used her. The broken shards of his birthday present cut into his hands from his fierce grip.

Alex never thought of Iguanas again, if he could help it.

It seemed like hours later. Perhaps it was. Finally, the cries stopped, the men wound down. Then he was rolled over, the bearded man sneering down at him.

"Did you like the show boy?" he crouched down next to the child. "It's your turn now. Why don't you tell me your name. I bet you could bring a fine ransom!"

Alex pressed his lips together. The man's brow furrowed, then he continued on in surprisingly good English.

"Come boy. Who your parents, what you doing out here alone, hmm?"

His jaw clenched. The man's eyes narrowed.

"You better start answer me, you not want to get hurt, no? Now, tell me your name, be good boy."

Alex glared. He wouldn't be a good boy for this bad man. As the man opened his mouth to speak again, his expression dark, Alex yelled back in Spanish.

"NO! You're a stupid, mean man! I don't help bad people who hurt others!"

The man's eyes widened, then narrowed in fury. Alex began struggling when the Spanish man grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"You can't talk to me like that! You worthless, little devil!" he hollered in Spanish again, then landed a hard blow across the small face.

Alex took a moment to focus again and then struggled even harder. Twisting his head, he bit hard into the arm that was holding him. The man screamed and let go.

Then Alex couldn't move, or see, or hardly breath. The man had flung himself, half lying, half straddling, onto the boy, nearly crushing him. Alex tried to struggle, but he could… hardly.. breath…!

Dimly, he heard the other men laughing. The one on top of him shifted, fully straddling him, pinned his arms to his sides. Alex tried to breath, but he could barely get any air. The man leaned forward, grinned, and slammed a fist into the blond boy. Then again. And again.

Alex was barely conscious now. But he felt when the man's hands ran down his chest, pulling at his shirt buttons. He felt the hot breath on his face, heard the laughter and excited panting. His struggles began anew.

He was terrified. And in pain. And today was his birthday! And where was Uncle Ian?!

His shirt was pulled open, a finger slid across his belly. He bucked and twisted and cried out. A fist met his face again. The weight on him increased, shifting lower. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his heart pounding, he wanted to scream but couldn't get enough air. Lights and bangs went off in his head.

And then the weight was gone. The laughing, too. He took a deep, painful breath, realized that the lights and bangs weren't just in his head. He opened his eyes, saw the bearded man lying beside him, unmoving.

Slowly, he looked around. People were shooting, yelling, fighting. Those awful men falling or running. Alex just lied there, gasping.

The chaos calmed down, a face appeared above him.

Ian.

He was saying something hurriedly, hands untying his nephew, his eyes worried. Then Alex was in his arms, fists gripping, and bruised face buried, in his uncles shirt. His breath hitched, jaw clenched. He didn't cry. _Remember, it could be worse._ But at the moment, he didn't want to think of how.

He heard others, his rescuers, discussing the "catch." Something about the "mission finally over." A voice called out to "Rider" that they were going to take the "terrorists" to "the holding place."

But Ian didn't seem to be listening. He was holding his nephew tightly, stroking his back, making reassuring noises. But as the initial shock and panic left, a bit of anger came out. And the reprimands started.

"You never should have come down! I told you to stay up there. Why couldn't you wait, only a _short_ while? Do you realize what could have _happened_ to you? If you had just done as I said, and been patient, I would have come and got you, and this wouldn't have…" He broke off the rant, looked away and ran a hand over his face. He never should have brought Alex here, never should have left him up in that tree, never should have expected the kid to be safe without him. But it had been the only choice. "You should have stayed up there. I... I thought you had a bit more sense, Alex. You have to learn to be more _patient_. This never would have… next time, just _wait_ a bit before you go off and be reckless, brainless…"

Although Ian was merely rambling a bit frantically because of his own fear, guilt and relief, Alex only heard how badly he had messed up. His uncle had told him what to do, how to be safe, but he had been too curious and impatient and edgy to sit still and wait a few hours. And as he shook in his uncle's arms, he promised himself he would never be so foolish again.

They returned to the apartment and were on a flight back to England the next day. Within a few weeks Jack was hired, to be a full-time guardian whenever Ian needed to leave. He never wanted for his nephew to experience something like that again.

But Alex never forgot.

It took a couple of weeks after the incident before he could hear or even think of the word _'wait_', without vivid flashbacks. The images would return, and he'd feel nauseous and terrified. He always tried to push them away again, and eventually he was able to move on past the experience. Still, every time he needed to wait, hold still, or be patient in some way, he always thought of his seventh birthday. He didn't mean to, really. But he couldn't help it.

And he found that, if he needed to, he could wait for anything, forever, by only focusing on the memories. After all, people can do anything with enough motivation and practice.

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_AN: What do you think? Pretty Intense, eh? Let me know (aka Review)._


	6. Protector

Disclaimer: Nah.

**PROTECTOR**

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_Alex Rider is a protector. He looks out for the innocent, hurting, helpless. Not just the oblivious millions- but the individuals._

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Daniel was a great guy. In a lot of ways. He was the star of his football team, he was the top in every class, and he was polite and witty. But what really made Daniel special, in Alex's opinion, was his care for others. For a while, Daniel was his hero.

He first met Daniel during his first week of year four, when he was eight. An older group of boys had chosen Alex as their victim; they had taunted and pushed him around everyday. Alex tried not to retaliate with violence, as Jack, and his teachers had always told him. He had been backed up against the school wall, when Daniel intervened. The older boy had come by to pick up his younger sister, when he saw what was happening.

"Oi!" he had yelled, storming over. "What do you think you're doing? Leave him alone!"

The twelve year olds backed away, seeing the furious glare and stride of the much bigger young man. He pushed past them and crouched next to Alex, who was straightening, wiping the blood from his lip.

"You alright?" Alex nodded, eyes wide and thankful. Daniel turned back to the bullies who were trying to slink away. "You lot! You should be ashamed of yourselves. What's the point in this? What did he ever do to you? Brainless gits. Get out of here- and I better not see you picking on the younger years again!"

The group fled, deciding they would lay low for a while. They all knew who Daniel was; he had quite a reputation.

And from then on, Daniel was Alex's protector. None of the bullies bothered Alex, they knew better. Daniel had taken the boy under his wing. Daniel would always say hello to Alex when he came and picked up his sister, and he often would give Alex a ride home. The eight year old loved to watch Daniel's practices and games, and sometimes on weekends they would play football together in the park. The more time Alex spent with Daniel, the more special he seemed. Daniel always had time for other people, even someone like Alex- a lonely, quiet, little boy in need of a role model.

For the rest of the school year it continued like this, until the day of Daniel's final football game at the end of his A levels, only a few weeks before he left for university. He'd already gotten a great scholarship to his school of choice, and had secured a place in future professional football from a scout that had come to the game. His team had won with a victorious 6-0 and were heading out to party.

Alex had, as usual, come to watch the game and wanted to congratulate Daniel before he left. Anxiously he hastily glanced both ways before starting to dash across the street, calling Daniel's name. The older boy looked back at the cry, his eyes widened, and he immediately rushed toward Alex.

You see, a car had turned out right as Alex was crossing. The driver, not paying attention and not seeing the smaller boy, was speeding too fast and would hit Alex before he cleared to the other side. Daniel saw all of this. And of course, he tried to help.

Alex was dazed as he flew back, landing hard near the sidewalk, where Daniel had pushed him. But he still heard the screeching brakes and horrid thump of a car hitting a body. He struggled up, hearing screams, as people ran to Daniel's side. In moments, an ambulance had rushed him away.

The news spread quickly of Daniel's heroic deed. As well as the news of his condition. He broke some delicate bones in his lower back, and would probably never walk again. The whole of Chelsea was shocked and disappointed. But the paralysis didn't really matter. Daniel never woke up from his coma. A month later they held his well-attended funeral. It was the biggest news and greatest tragedy in the area for years.

But it was worse for Alex; he was devastated. He didn't cry, of course, but the event caused him loads of sleepless nights. For quite a while he thought it was completely his fault, and even after Jack's insistent reasoning, he couldn't shake the thought that his life couldn't have been as important as Daniel's. He should have been the one who died, not this well-loved… hero!

Finally he resolved that he wouldn't take this gift for granted. He wouldn't waste Daniel's sacrifice. He vowed to take Daniel's place. The world still had bullies, bad drivers, and little, lonely boys. Well, Alex would be their protector. Someone who could always be counted on to help, to keep the bad things away, to watch out for the underdog. He'd let the prickly, old widows as well as the rejected, bashful, little boys know how important and appreciated they are to the world.

So he vowed, and so he did.

He made it routine to visit a care center every so often, visiting with the elderly. Even as he grew older, and started at Brookland, he would swing by the primary schools. He stopped a lot of bullying, made loads of little friends, and paid particular attention to the lonely and left out. When he got groceries he would stop and help the single mother load her car and handle her children. His neighbors could always count on him to watch their things when they were away, and to immediately come by to help with emergencies or household problems.

There were a lot of chances for Alex to help others. Besides the little, almost daily things, he managed to affect many people's lives in immeasurable ways.

Tabitha, on her first day to the beach in Costa del Sol, definitely would have drowned when the undertow caught her, if Alex hadn't been there. It took over an hour of constant swimming and placating of the terrified girl, but eleven year old Alex finally made it back to shore, where her relieved, grateful family waited. When they turned to thank him, her savior had already slipped quietly away.

When Alex was twelve, he met Martin Finn, and immediately knew he was badly abused. Two months later Mr. Finn was in jail and Martin happily had new loving parents, a fresh home and town, with three siblings and a puppy.

Mia was seventeen when she decided life wasn't worth living. She had spent all morning in front of the mirror, getting ready for what she now resolved would be her last disappointment. Mia was at the end of a run-down alley, loading the gun, when Alex walked up. He casually handed her a scone and proceeded to tell her all about his neighbor, who had only yesterday returned from hospital after giving birth, and how excited and amazed he was when he held the precious, little baby, and how special and inspiring life was. As she contemplated this, he complimented her hairstyle, saying that she must have quite the talent, and mentioned that he'd heard the local beautician school was accepting students. Then he smiled, took the soiled napkin from the delicious scone she just now realized she'd eaten and really enjoyed, walked back down the alley, and was gone. She didn't even know his name and she never saw him again. But two years later she was engaged, graduating top of her group as a hair stylist, and living life to its fullest, appalled at the thought that she would ever have wanted to throw such a precious gift away.

Ehigha didn't want to be a slave. He didn't want to work for someone else, without pay, for the rest of his guaranteed-short life. But having been caught by an underground slave trading group in Lagos, Nigeria he had no way out. Until he saw Alex strolling casually through the compound. He never found out how the English boy did it. All he knew was that one day he had no hope, relief, or future, the next he, and the rest of the slaves, were free to return to their families, the slave group exposed and taken by the authorities. And he knew that his old, near-forgotten friend, two years older from when they had last parted, but still only 13 years old, had saved them all.

Tom Harris was the 'new kid' at Brookland. Consequently the main target for rumors, staring, and bullies. He hated being the new kid. Growing up, he had to move around a lot for his father's job. A constant issue and argument between his parents. But finally, they had settled down here. His father was manager over a branch and they decided it was the perfect spot for him. No more moving. But that meant he would have to make permanent friends and a place for himself in the school. Which was looking like a lost cause. Two weeks in, the only attention he'd attracted was the bad kind.

He was cornered and being shoved around out back by the bleachers when Alex showed up. Tom knew who he was, most of the students 'knew' all about Alex Rider, and Tom had already heard the stories told of the blond. Apparently he'd been away on his most recent trip with his Uncle. Now, he was back, looking tan, careless, and very sure of himself.

"Hello, mates. What's this then? Having a party and I wasn't invited? Hmm, seems to me like the guest of honor isn't enjoying himself much." he'd said cheerfully. And before Tom knew quite what had happened, the three older boys were running away, one limping, another with a blossoming black eye, the third having taken off before Alex had even finished talking.

And so Tom finally had a friend. No longer the new kid or bullied, he gained confidence from Alex's support and example. He knew Alex would always have his back.

And he would. Alex always had everyone's back. Even those who didn't know him, never met him, and had no idea he'd ever helped.

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_AN: Less 'bad Ian' chapter, eh? I didn't mean for all my 'flashbacks' to be about him and Alex. So, hope this one was refreshing a bit. Let me know- Review._


	7. Trust

Disclaimer: huh-uh.

**TRUST**

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**_Alex Rider doesn't trust. Anyone. Not really. _

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Six year old Alex, just back from getting groceries with his sitter, walked into the bathroom to see his uncle hurriedly pull his pant leg back down. Perceptive and quick, as his uncle taught him, Alex caught the flash of red and grimace of pain on Ian's face.

"You're hurt! What happened? When did you get back from your business trip?" He rushed forward to help in some way, but Ian shook his head and led them out of the bathroom.

"I'm fine, Alex. Just a scratch. I got back about an hour ago. How was school?" Ian tried to changed the subject, but Alex was insistent.

"Boring. Are you sure you're alright? Only, lots of times when you get home from trips you have bruises or cuts. Why?" this had been bothering him a lot. But his uncle always brushed him off, reassuring that all was fine. Alex wanted to know, because he worried, and he didn't know why he should need to when his uncle was just doing bank jobs. "Are you really going to meetings for the bank? Why would you get hurt at a meeting?"

"Look, it really was only a trip Alex. You know how clumsy I am. I broke my arm last year getting out of a cab! Remember that?" Expert spy that he was, his chuckles still weren't convincing his sharp nephew. "But I'm not hurt now, so don't worry."

"But… Uncle Ian, I saw blood! There's something wrong- I know it!" His uncle put his hands on Alex's shoulders, looked him in the eye, and firmly denied it all.

"Alex. Nothing is going on. I go to the bank every day, take some boring business trips, and come back to you, or take you with me, when I can. Nothing else. You're only getting yourself worked up. I'm not hurt and there's nothing wrong. Trust me."

And Alex knew he was lying. Again.

-.-

Seven year old Alex smiled at his friend Peng. He had met the boy on his second day in Taipei and now, three weeks later, they spent every free hour together.

"Let's go to the shops, Alex, I'm hungry. I want a suncake." The hyper blond spoke the fastest Mandarin of anyone Alex had ever heard. It had taken a few days for him to understand him very well.

"I can't Peng, not today. I have to run an errand for my uncle. I can meet you at the docks later…"

"Ah, your uncle is old and bossy. What does he have you doing this time?"

"I have to drop this envelope off at the postal office. He said it's really important and to make sure it's sent before noon."

"Let's see it then!" Peng snatched the thick envelope out of Alex's hands and started to open it.

"No! You can't look in it! I have to get it mailed without any scuffs to it or anything!" Alex nervously tried to grab it back, but the American boy was taller than him. Alex knew what was inside, his uncle had told him so he understood its importance. It was a whole bunch of money being sent back to 'the bank' and that it _must not_ be lost or opened.

"Oh, alright. Calm down. I'll help you carry it to the postal office. You're clumsy- bound to drop it in a puddle or something." He turned to head down the street. But Alex caught his arm.

"Really, I think I should carry it. I'm not supposed to let it out of my sight. Just give it back, please?"

"Come on Alex! We're friends- I wouldn't do anything to get you in trouble. You can trust me! Let me carry it and prove it to you."

"Well… I don't know. I really should do it myself…" but Peng was a lot of fun and his only friend here in this foreign city. He wanted to know he had someone to watch his back. "Alright. But we're going straight there!"

"Of course. Let's go!" and Peng took off, skipping down the street, providing his constant chatter.

They were almost to the drop off, heading through a busy low-establishment district, when Peng suddenly took off to the right, down a side alley.

"Oi! Peng, come back! Where are you going?" Alex took off after his friend, his wiry legs flying to keep up with the taller boy. He chased the Asian boy for several minutes, going farther into the dark, back alleys Alex knew he shouldn't be in. Finally, panting, he turned a corner into a dead end. Alex bent double, hands on knees, as he tried to catch his breath.

"Peng… what… what are you… doing?" he looked up at his friend, confused and angry. But the other boy just stared back, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm sorry Alex, but I had to. It was the only way and… I could really use this money."

"Wha…?" Alex spun around when he heard footsteps behind him. Four older boys, probably in their teens, were walking menacingly toward him, grinning like predators. He backed several steps deeper into the alley. Peng, his head down, slinked past him, mumbled another apology, and disappeared around the corner.

"Peng! Come back! What did you do?" one of the thugs lunged at Alex, making the boy scramble backwards until his back hit the alley wall. "Peng, I thought we were friends! I trusted you!"

But Peng was gone, and Alex had four, larger and older boys set on giving him a thorough beating. He did the best he could, for being only seven. He'd been taking karate for years already, and Ian regularly drilled him to make sure he could defend himself. So he put up quite the fight; caused a load of injuries back. But an hour later, he huddled behind a pile of boards, having just escaped before he lost consciousness. He was sore all over, his eye was swelling up, and blood still trickled from a cut over his eye.

He knew Ian would be furious and disappointed in him. He had lost the envelope because he wasn't smart or responsible or cautious enough. He hadn't expected something like this, not from _Peng… But I should have! And I never should have trusted that traitorous git! He- he- just- argh!_ He dwelt on the anger and pain of his injuries, because he didn't want to acknowledge the hurt and loneliness of betrayal.

And Alex never wanted to suffer that painful, exposed feeling again.

-.-

Eight year old Alex lay sick in bed, feeling awful. He was rarely ever sick, and it always made him feel helpless, scared, and needy.

After only two days of it, Jack was at the end of her rope. She'd never cared for a sick person before and she was worried that she would get sick too, and not be able help her charge anymore. Ian was scheduled to be back the next morning, but she didn't feel that was soon enough. The worst of it was, her favorite cousin had died from a bad illness, and although she knew Alex would hardly die from this, she couldn't keep the memories and feelings at bay much longer.

Alex watched as she paced in front of his bed. He knew that she couldn't take much more. He wasn't sure quite why, but she seemed very tense and upset. Finally she faced him and drew a deep breath.

"Alex, hun, I… I'm just… I'm going to go on a walk. Take a short breather. I'll be back in a bit, I promise. I just need to get a fresh look on things, okay?"

"Jack… please, stay with me... for a couple more minutes… until I fall asleep. Please?" his pleading eyes stood out sharply in his pale face. He hated being alone when he was sick. But she'd had just a little too much. She needed a break and she knew if she stayed another minute she would never get away.

"I'm sorry Alex. I'll just be a minute. Here," she handed him his favorite book. "Read this and then I'll be back. I promise, okay? Trust me little guy."

He remembered the last time she had said that, a couple months after she had gotten here, he had asked her why she stayed, since all the other caretakers had left after a few days. He said that he liked her a lot, she was nice, and that he didn't want her to leave a lot like Ian and the others nannies did. She had crouched down, gave him a quirky grin, and said, "I'm always gonna be here for ya, kiddo. When you're sad, or need help with homework, or if you're sick and puking your guts out. I'll be there for ya. I promise, okay? Trust me little guy."

Now, he did as she said, he was too tired to argue anyways. He nodded and she was gone.

But she didn't come back. For a week.

Alex spent another day in bed, then, knowing he needed nourishment to get better, he forced himself downstairs, where he made some chicken soup. He camped out on a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows between the kitchen and the bathroom, getting up only when he had to. Four days later, he finally was well enough to go to school. Two days later, his uncle returned from his trip, greeted Alex briefly with a large hug, a wan smile, then headed upstairs and collapsed in his bed. The next morning, a Saturday, Jack showed up, looking tan and rejuvenated, a large, happy smile on her face.

She apologized profusely to Alex, saying she shouldn't have left, but she had needed it, and she wouldn't have been much help here in that state anyways. Privately thinking that Ian had gotten back on time and was a great 'nurse,' she said aloud that Alex was looking great and that he had been cared for so much better than anything she could have done.

It was a misunderstanding, and tragic mistake that neither realized. Jack thought she had only left Alex alone for one night, but Alex thought she had carelessly taken off, unconcerned for his well being.

Although Alex was used to being alone and fending for himself for lengths of time, because of his childhood with Ian, he hadn't expected it from Jack.

And Alex wondered _why _he hadn't expected it.

-.-

Nine year old Alex turned as he heard Miss Glason, his English teacher, calling his name.

"Yes miss?"

"Alex, dear. Could I talk with you for a moment?" Once they were in her classroom she opened a folder and handed him stapled couple of papers. "I had a chance to read through your oral report for tomorrow, since you were so prompt and turned it in early. But I'm concerned about the content. You always do so well in class… but you can't seem to get the biography papers down. We've had several assignments where all you need to do is write about a true experience you had, but you always make something up."

She gave him a stern look and he was quick to deny it. "But Miss Glason, they are true! I really do those things I say I do. My uncle and I go a lot of places. I'm not making it up, rea-"

"Alex, I understand that you might think you don't do a lot of fun things, so you feel the need to pretend. But, even a simple birthday party or telling about your favorite bedtime story will work. Anything- but it _must_ be true. I can't keep giving you points for the assignment when you don't do it like the other children. It's not fair."

"Miss, I _promise_, that it's true! Please. I'll re-write the paper on a different experience. But you have to believe that it's true. Even if it doesn't sound like it. Please?"

The woman looked at the boy for a moment or two. Finally she relented. "Alright. I will give you another chance. If you write it again, about… about what you did last weekend- if it's just watching films and eating crisps or something as exciting as visiting the Eiffel tower- I'll believe it. How does that sound?"

"Oh…" Alex was hesitant. "Do I _have_ to write about last weekend? You probably won't believe that…"

"Don't be silly. I will. I promise. And I bet it will be a really great experience to share with the class. If you promise to write the truth, I promise to believe it. Lets trust each other, alright?"

And so he did. He spent hours that night detailing his first trip to Japan and how his uncle insisted they speak only the local language. He told of how exciting it was, how much he loved the colors and how many people there were, he expressed his frustration in trying to pick up and remember enough of the language to communicate with his uncle and his sorrow at having to come back to England for school on Monday. He put in as much as he could, so Miss Glason would know it had really happened. He knew it might seem more of a 'fake' experience than she wanted, but he left out some of the more unbelievable things that happened. And she had said to write the truth. So he did.

The next morning, he stood to read his report aloud to the class, nervously glancing at the teacher. She smiled encouragingly, mouthed _I promise_, and motioned for him to go ahead.

He never got to finish. Barely half-way through, Miss Glason stood, put a firm hand on his shoulder to silence him, and took the report from his hands.

"Mr. Rider, you really shouldn't lie." She said with an exasperated, unforgiving frown. "All I asked was for you to write about a real, true experience. For once. It's not a hard assignment- everyone else did it. But you just have to fabricate everything, don't you? I don't know why I even bother with you anymore. You won't get points for this assignment. Go to the office for detention."

He hung his head as he left the room, the class snickering and his teacher dropping the fateful report in the rubbish bin. It was only a report. Not that big of a deal, really. But it was the last straw.

And Alex never trusted again.

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_AN: I'm going to assume that I'll get some 'bad Jack!' reviews. Hopefully I've properly explained the fact that she's only about 19years old, that she was still mourning and dealing with her cousin's death, that she expected Ian to be with Alex less than 10hrs (in which she thought Alex would sleep) after she left, and that she is new at the whole completely taking care of a kid thing.  
Anyhow. Proceed with the feedback, please!_


	8. Lies

Disclaimer: Negative

_AN: A note to some of my reviewers. First, thank you all. I'm not able to respond to you all individually, but I do appreciate your comments! _Ichihime_ you hit the nail on the head- you basically predicted what I had written in this chapter!_

_Secondly, it's a recurring, reaction from most of you to dislike and rail on Ian & Jack. It's understandable, of course, since I wrote them that way. Hopefully this chapter will give you a different perspective, when the 'family' isn't dealing with life-changing drama. _

_Finally, the somewhat random, __**bolded**__ sentence concerning the late Miss Glason is dedicated to my most devoted reviewers: _Amore_, _KayCelestine_, _Bubbley-chan,_ and especially_ Marie Elaine Cullen_-(thanks for making me laugh!)._

**LIES**

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_Alex Rider lies well. He's not a chronic liar, for he always does it consciously. But he can easily pretend anything, if he wants._

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Ian was stewing.

He'd just received a call from a Miss Glason, Alex's teacher. Apparently he'd been telling stories and not completing assignments. She said that just today she'd needed to fail Alex on a presentation because he went specifically against her instructions.

But the spy knew what this was about. He'd seen Alex working for hours on that assignment. Something about a vacation, or weekend activities. He must have written about Japan. And the teacher probably didn't believe it. Ian felt a pang of chagrin, knowing that the way he raised his nephew, and the things they did together, were a bit… different.

Well. Things weren't about to change, really. Ian still needed to go on missions, Alex still loved to travel with him, and neither wanted to give up their limited time together because of some stuffy teacher.

_Right, then._ Ian decided, _I'll have to teach Alex the… subtleties of… deception._

So, while Jack was making dinner (grilled cheese- her specialty), Ian sat Alex down in his study.

"How was school today?"

"Fine." Alex looked away, foot tapping nervously on the floor.

"Rii-iight…" Ian rolled his eyes. Definitely needed work. "Not very convincing mate. Try that again without the shifty eyes."

"School was great. Pizza for lunch."

"Better… but not quite." Ian smirked, then got to the point. "Look, Alex, your teacher called me today. Says you're a chronic liar. But judging on your performance just now, I can't say you're all that good at it."

He grinned, waiting for a reaction. But Alex just sat silently, head bowed.

"I'm not angry. Over the years, I think I know what's been going on. You're a good kid, obedient, honest. The truth of our life is just... harder to believe, than lies. We've had some crazy times, eh?"

Alex glanced up, one corner of his mouth quirked slightly.

"But sometimes... you have to tell people what they want to hear. So. We're going to have a… contest, if you will. You up for it?"

A slow nod answered.

"Great. Here's what we're going to do. For the next… I dunno, for a while, I want you to try and… pretend. When I, or anyone really, asks you a question or you say something, I want you to randomly lie, pretend differently. I'll try to guess which times you're faking and which times you're telling me the truth. We'll try and see how many people we fool… Oi, I see that look! Don't give me that- It may sound mental, but I used to play this game with your dad all the time. It can be a blast, once you get the hang of it. If you can think quick enough, and school your face and all that, sometimes it can get pretty fun, especially when the lie is really unbelievable.

"I remember once… I'd asked him what he'd been doing all evening, because I'd not seen him for hours, and he just blurted out 'homework.' Perfect 'exhausted-from-studying' face, excellent delivery- even thought to rub his hand as though it was sore from writing a lot. Thing was, he couldn't have been doing homework, he wasn't in school then. Been graduated for a couple of months. It was hilarious. Really, he'd been out with Hellen, snog- well, anyways. It can be fun, and it'll help you learn to… adjust your answers to the circumstances. What d'you think?"

Alex hadn't been having a good day. But, getting to come home to a cheerful uncle, hearing stories of his parents, presented with a challenge, and a promise of grilled cheese, he was in a much better mood.

"You're on uncle Ian." And they shook hands, mock serious.

"Dinner's ready! Come and get it you lazy slobs!"

The men of the house shared a fond grin over the American's eccentricities then rushed as one to the kitchen.

Ian's 'Pretend' game started that night, when Jack asked Alex if he liked the 'salad' she'd thrown together as a side to her famous grilled cheese. She'd picked up the habit of making a simple meal, then throwing all of the food groups not in the main meal, into a salad. Understandably, it didn't often turn out edible. This night, she'd added green beans, pineapple slices, spinach leaves, lunch bologna cut into strips, leftover scrambled eggs from that morning, taco sauce, sesame seeds, and a few other odds and ends.

Alex wasn't a picky eater. But he'd never become accustomed to the taste of taco sauce, pineapple, and bologna together, let alone the rest of that… mess. At her anxious look, however, he schooled his face, took a large bite, forced himself to swallow, and held back a gag as he proclaimed approval.

Ian smirked, having already braved a tiny portion of his own serving, knowing what Alex must really think. The boy looked over at him for his judgment on the worthiness of the lie. Ian winked, and nodded his head toward a grinning Jack. Clearly it had fooled someone.

Later, at his bedtime, Alex insisted that he hadn't finished his mound of school work, due tomorrow. Jack sighed and shook her head, already fully versed in this excuse to stay up, having used it often herself. But it worked on Ian. With a worried frown, knowing his nephew needed to stay on top with his school work to make up for the failed presentation, Ian approved of a half hour extension to finish it.

After Alex finally went to bed Jack stopped by Ian's room. He was reading through a folder while brushing his teeth, and glanced up at her knock, grunting for her to enter.

"You know, you fell for the oldest trick in the book." She chuckled at his confusion. "Alex. Homework. Remember? You totally let him get away with that! He's usually super fast at getting it done, and 'sides- today's Wednesday. They usually get new assignments on Tuesdays and Fridays. Duh. No way did he need extra time to finish school stuff."

A bit of toothpaste drool was dripping down Ian's chin as he stared at her, confounded.

She laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Oh well. At least now you've been warned. He's a crafty little guy, isn't he? Night."

Ian stood for another moment, then rushed to the sink to finish brushing his teeth. He was rather stunned. The kid was good already. He thought he'd be able to tell the truth and lies apart for a few more days at least.

Well. Game on.

Both Ian and Alex got better at the game. They would trade secretive looks and smiles when conversing with others, catch each other out on lies and warped answers, try their best to fool the other.

It was originally meant for only a few weeks. A game that might help Alex learn how and when to 'lie' convincingly at school and such. But it became an ongoing challenge between the two, always present, like a private joke.

When at the grocery store, they would pretend to be different characters, such as an annoyed older brother and rebellious younger brother. They fooled the elderly lady in the line to reprimand Alex for not being obedient, the grocer to wink at the mischievous boy.

At the shooting range, they pretended to be avid hunters. Practicing for the next 'safari' they were planning, regaling the workers and other customers of exciting tales 'in the jungle and on the African plain!'

The time Alex hurt himself badly trying to pull off a dangerous trick on his bike, he was able to hoodwink all of the nurses and doctor. Despite the fact that his injuries didn't look much like it, everyone believed Alex descriptive, emotional account of the wolf attack. Ian had backed him up, adding random 'eye witness' support, trying to hide the humor he found in the ruse.

Jack was frequently trying to figure out what they were doing and saying for real, and what was a show. It drove her crazy. But they always took turns tattling on the other to her.

Over time, Alex stopped having trouble at school. He was better at hiding, or not mentioning, the oddities of his home life. His teachers approved, **except for Miss Glason, although she was never given the chance, as she surreptitiously dropped dead while sitting at her computer one night.** His peers soon accepted him as all the others. The Pretending Game, as Jack named it, taught Alex, and gave him the practice, to adjust to any situation.

After so long practicing it became easy for Alex to lie in any circumstance. And, of course, his 'pretending' abilities bled over into serious matters as well. Such as when he fractured a rib once during a sparring session with Ian. They often would practice together and Alex had let a hard front kick through his guard. He told Ian he was fine, that it had just winded him, and they practiced for another quarter of an hour. After his shower Alex wrapped his ribs tightly and went down to dinner. His uncle never knew about it.

Jack could hardly tell how Alex was doing at school, with friends, on the football team. Because his response was always the same; "fine." She only knew they were playing the championship game because Tom kept bragging about it. And she had to steal his report cards from Ian to know that Alex got 'top marks' and 'highest grade' in many of his classes.

She didn't know what gifts to get him, because he would never say, and always told her it didn't matter to him. She tried suggesting different things, but it didn't work; he had the same reaction to each, even things she knew he couldn't have wanted.

It was rather frustrating. Alex didn't tend to talk much, and when he did, she couldn't always be sure if it was true or not. Nearly a year after the 'game' started, Jack confronted Ian with the problem.

"Really, Ian. It's good that you two have this game and all, but… it's affecting his life!"

"Well, I would hope so. That's why I started it in the first place." He retorted firmly. "Now he can keep up pretenses and act the right way at school and with his friends. He doesn't have to worry about people's reactions to things they might not agree with or believe."

"You- wha… Ian!" She couldn't believe it; he _wanted_ Alex to lie to everyone? "That's _not_ the way for kids to face their problems! You should give him a chance to _be_ normal, and not just teach him how to _act_ like he is!"

"Look, Jack, I appreciate your concern, but Alex is fine. I'm his uncle, and I think I know a bit better how to help him. Alright?"

It was a clear dismissal, as he turned back to his computer where he'd been working. She scowled, huffed, and stormed out of the room.

If that's how it was going to be, she would just have to learn how to read Alex. Watch his eyes, figure out his 'tell,' _something_. Someone needed to know what was really going on in his life, or he'd always be alone and no one would ever know the real Alex, the one she had come to love, admire, and care for.

By Alex's fourteenth birthday the pattern was set.

Ian worked, and whenever he could spend time with the other two they would go on holidays, weekend trips, and fun activities. Jack took classes at the local college. She listened to and met Alex's unspoken needs, understood and supported him in things no other could. Together, she and Alex would keep up the housework, make meals, and be the family Ian could return to. Alex went to school, played football, kept up in his languages and shooting, progressed in karate, and tried to be there for Jack the way she was for him.

But all of the hidden family secrets, the happenings that went on beneath the surface actions, remained unspoken. Essentially because, Jack didn't know, Alex wouldn't tell, and Ian never understood the importance.

~\/\/ |-| `/ ~

_AN: Quite a bit lighter than some of the previous ones, eh? Guess it's a good ending one I think. They sort of follow through his life from 3-14. Appreciate the friendly/homey feeling of this chap while you can though. Warning you, the last chap will be the most 'tragic' definitely._

_This is the last 'flashback' chapter I had planned. Unless someone has a good idea for something else? I tried to include mention of the smaller/day-to-day things in this chapter. Obviously Alex knows lots of languages, and I didn't bother to write the fun, vacation experiences when Alex and Ian went white water rafting, mountain climbing, when he took Karate, etc. Those happened a lot and throughout his childhood. _

_I might pick a couple and give them a shot… but unless someone has a specific request/suggestion I don't think I'll get around to it. I really want to post the epilogue, which has to come after all the 'flashback' chapters. So let me know!_


	9. When

Disclaimer: not really

_AN: So here it is. Don't kill me. Sorry to all who thought this was an actual update. I accidentally deleted the last chapter and had to re-upload it. _

* * *

Epilogue

**WHEN**

Alex Rider is complex. I told you. Most never realized, those who he interacted with, both at home, in school, and on missions, but Alex has never been normal or simple. He couldn't have been. Not after all those experiences, and many more. The things he went through, the decisions he made- that's why he is the way he is, has done the things he has done.

That's why, when his uncle died suddenly from a supposed car accident, his response was to find out what really happened.

That's why, when he found out Ian had been lying to him his whole life, he felt more understanding than shock. The pieces at last fit into place.

That's why, when he was finally introduced to his 'true calling' and took his first mission, he accepted, not really all that surprised.

That's why, when he was treated so badly, pushed so hard at Brecon Beacons, he just held his tongue, kept his head high, pushed on, and overcame it all.

That's why, when he encountered death, violence, cruelty, sadism, and evil in the face, he just glared right back. And won.

That's why, when he heard about the drug dealer slowly taking over his school, he dropped them, boat and all, onto the authorities.

That's why, when Sarov wanted to adopt him, it barely even crossed his mind as a real option.

That's why, when he was blackmailed, manipulated, and lied to he was furious, but resigned.

That's why, when Sabina left for America with hardly a goodbye- it hurt, a lot- he let her go, with a small, weary smile, and let her have a life he never could.

That's why, when he heard Julia Rothman's evidence-backed explanation, he went all the way to Mrs. Jones' apartment, gun cocked and ready to killer her. But still couldn't do it.

That's why, when his classmates stared at his scars, the circle's under his eyes, when they whispered about him, and turned away; Alex didn't seem to notice. And in time didn't care.

That's why, when he woke in the hospital, a gaping hole in his chest, he winced, sighed, and rolled his eyes.

That's why, when he was faced with choices of easy or right, he sacrificed all for what was right. Again and again.

That's why, when he met up with his long-lost godfather, who had never bothered to be in his life, and didn't seem to ever want to, Alex didn't expect anything permanent. He just asked to know a bit more about his parents.

That's why, when Agent 'Fox' Daniels showed back up, Alex accepted him as a friend, forgetting their past. He had too many regrets and too few friends to hold grudges.

That's why, when he was staring down at a dead traitor, his wounded partner/friend being carried away on the edge of death, and the Australian's question ringing in his ears, he merely said; "That was nobody."

That's why, when he was plagued with vicious nightmares, he never cried out, never made noise louder than his gasping breath as he sat rigidly in cold sweat. In the mornings, Jack only knew about them by the lingering smell of vomit in the bathroom, the cold, half emptied coffee pot, and Alex, himself, as he headed to the shower, still panting from an intense, several-hour workout.

That's why, when he was held prisoner and tortured nigh to death by Doctor Three, on the anniversary of his Scorpia mission, he took a moment to laugh at the irony. His captors, an illegal, experimental organization, thought he had finally broke. The next day he sped away in a stolen car, their headquarters in flames behind him. He laughed again.

That's why, when the psychiatrist asked him how and why he did what he did, really, he just shrugged. He wasn't being difficult, he just couldn't explain. It was just who he was.

That's why, when Tom told Alex, by email, that he was leaving to live with his brother- that he couldn't pick between his divorced parents and that he hardly saw Alex now, anyways- Alex wrote back that he made the right choice. Wrote that he hoped Tom enjoyed the new area, that he made friends, that they could still write, and to not worry about it. Brookland never heard a full sentence from Alex again.

That's why, when Smithers handed him a small, high-class, silenced gun, his first 'official' weapon, he exchanged a smirk with his large friend, and instead took it home for Jack and taught her how to use it. He already had several for himself.

That's why, when he got Ben's Christmas card, a joyful picture of him, his wife, and their two kids, Alex was almost glad that the bullet he had taken during the Snakehead mission had cost him an arm. That family didn't deserve a spy's life. (1)

That's why, when he was expelled from Brookland for incapacitating an assassin teacher, he pushed all regrets behind firm walls.

That's why, when his leg was broken in four places he was grateful for the forced reprieve from missions, but was anxious, tense, and frustrated with his own vulnerability the entire eight weeks.

That's why, when he was unable to take, and consequently failed, his GCSEs, because he was in Cario, undercover for a month, he resolutely took accelerated summer classes by himself, and passed with flying grades.

That's why, when they tried to use a couple of terrified children, no older than four or five, as leverage to make him join their rebellion, Alex shot the sadistic rogues down, point blank in the forehead, without hesitation.

That's why, when she said "sleep with me or die," and being dead wasn't an option on such a critical mission, he numbly did what he had to. Later, as he tuned out Blunt congratulating him on "another job well done," Alex thought, feeling nauseous, that his 'first time' had been special in one way; it had saved the world again.

That's why, when he turned seventeen the day he was left to die on a small, abandoned island off the Philippines, he didn't even realize until three days later when he was back at headquarters being debriefed and Mrs. Jones asked if he had enjoyed his birthday.

That's why, when the Presidents of Syria, the United States, Azerbaijan, Japan, Nicaragua, and South Africa, the King of Morocco, and other world leaders all wanted to give him awards for services to their countries, he politely declined with "I was only doing what had to be done."

That's why, when he watched the light leave Jack's eyes, her blood pooling on the floor, he –_still_- didn't loose control. In less than five minutes, all three 'mastermind' captors and six guards were incapacitated and Alex was carrying Jack out to help.

That's why, when the medics informed him that she was undoubtedly gone, he calmly walked back to the room where their captors were just beginning to wake up. He picked up a gun. _Then_, he lost control. Blunt was frustrated that there was so few left to question.

That's why, when his life, never the most glorious to begin with, had completely fallen apart in every single way, Alex sighed, wiped away the traitorous tear, squared his shoulders. And moved on.

That's why we can live our lives. Because he's given his.

~\/\/ |-| `/ ~

* * *

(1)_ So I know that the book says he'll be alright, but… MI6 has lied before, and I wanted it this way._

_I hope you all liked it. Not the most cheerful fic out there I suppose… but it was a rather different spin than people usually write AR. The norm is the "his eyes look so dead, he's changed so much, he can never be normal again" spin. But this gives a new perspective, eh? _

_Well it's done. Feels nice to finally have a completed story. Let me know what you think!_


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